


And So, The World Moved On. (Did It Really, Though?)

by CescaLR



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ghost!Allison, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Season/Series 05, forgot which one; sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-13 15:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Allison wakes up. She wakes up, in the dark and the dank, and she screams to herself.





	1. Given This Chance, What Would You Do?

**Author's Note:**

> Allison's unlife is not. pretty. Wow, what have I done?
> 
> The dread doctors are more intense about their experiments on tiny teenagers, sorry dudes.

It's dark. That's the first thing Allison is aware of, aside from her own screaming. There's a sword - a katana, she thinks - buried in her gut, or it feels like it. A phantom pain, perhaps; she can't see. It's dark, is the first thing she sees. The first thing she's aware of.

After a moment, Allison's scream peters out. She's got a hand on her stomach, covering the gaping wound, but there's no sword in her gut. The pain is fake, the pain isn't really.

It's just imaginary. A hallucination. Funny; she thought they'd gone after helping Malia. And they'd only been about her aunt, but they'd also been full hallucinations. Fake places, fake sounds, fake feelings, fake fake  _fake._

This might be fake, for all Allison knows. Maybe she's gone crazy again, and she's just strapped up in Eichen house in a room near Stiles. 

 _Stiles._ God; she'd almost forgotten. Allison had died before she knew for certain if her friends were safe. Did they get Lydia out only to lose to the Nogitsune days later? Was her world, her town, was it gone? Was the nogitsune running around in Stiles' form, murdering and tricking and fooling everyone it met? 

That gave Allison resolve. She needed out of this dark, dank place. She needed out  _right fucking now._

Allison had the energy to sit straight up - her head went through... something, she wasn't sure what, but now there was a feeling like dirt touching her lips, a phantom feeling but one unlike the sword she could have sworn was stuck in her gut. 

Allison raised her hand and met resistance. She paused. Allison placed her hand against the surface and felt it, tested it, touched it.

Wood. It was wood. How had she sat up? Allison pressed harder, forced her hand against the wood, but it didn't budge. 

Perhaps there was a hole, she thought, desperately. She didn't want to be buried in a wooden box under mounds of dirt; not when she knows what that means. 

She doesn't want to think about what that means. 

Allison's fingers scrabbled against the wood, and she cursed herself for keeping her nails short, cursed herself as the wood  _felt_ like it tore at her skin, at the skin below her nails, at the bone under the skin, at her knuckles.

Her hand was in the dirt now, Allison realised. Her panic died down. Allison pulled herself up through the dirt - didn't think about needing to break her legs free, or her other hand, or her arms - she just pulled herself up, clawed at the dirt, through the dirt, lifted and lifted and suddenly - 

She was there. Her head had broken the surface. Allison scrambled with her arms and pulled herself up. Relief flooded through her, and she almost took a deep breath at her newfound freedom. 

That was until she realised where she was. Allison looked around herself, at the sprawling expanse of fresh and old stone, of graves and tombs and all that, of angels and other statues. 

Allison pulled herself to standing, and turned around, slowly, in a circle. As far as she could see, there were graves. Allison... the graveyard hadn't been this big before, right?

Or maybe it's her perspective, Allison thought, with dawning horror. Maybe Allison's seeing the graves of those never buried, never found. 

Allison turned around again. She crouched in the patch of Wolfsbane that covers her grave - an Argent requirement she sorely hates; it likely meant that the people she wanted to have visited wouldn't have been able to - And placed her fingers on her grave. 

She traces the letters; a phantom feeling, the rough touch of stone she remembers but not one she's experiencing right now -  _Allison Argent. Beloved daughter, friend, girlfriend._

_A warrior until the end._

_"nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes"; "We protect those who cannot protect themselves."_

Allison traced the words, again and again. She commits them to memory - she thinks,  _This is how I will be remembered._

Allison stands and glances to her left. Her mother, her aunt. She stared, for a moment. Allison thought that maybe if she was here, others would be too.

Allison was glad that those two women weren't there. An eternity with them... Allison wasn't sure she could handle that.

Hearing footsteps - louder than they should be; Allison wonders if she's got super-hearing, now - Allison turned around. 

Malia. That's - unexpected. 

"Hello again," Malia says to her gravestone. "Sorry that it's been so long. Things are looking... bad."

Malia crouched down, took a flower into her hand and stroked the petal with her thumb. "Scott couldn't come this time," Malia said. "Sorry about that too."

Malia stood, stared at Allison's gravestone; stared right through her. "... I know you know what I'm here for," Malia said, and Allison wishes she could say that she didn't. "So let's get started, shall we?"

Malia sits on the ground at the end of her grave, and Allison mimics her, sits amongst the flowers. 

Malia coughed, slightly. "Kids are going missing, then showing up again, then dying," Malia said. "Lydia says it's mercury, what comes out of them. Not that I know what that could mean."

Malia takes a flower between her fingers again. She sighs. "Stiles told me to tell you 'sorry'. Again." She paused, blew a strand of now-short hair from her face. "Just like last time and the time before that, and the times he's come himself." 

Of course. Allison knows Stiles - she knew he'd blame himself. Allison almost feels - she's not sure what she feels about that. It's not his fault, of course not, but - 

"There's a new guy in town," Malia said. "Theo Raeken. I think he has a past here? Scott knew him, and Stiles knew him, at any rate." Malia shrugged. "He seems nice enough, I suppose. Stiles doesn't like him  _at all."_ There's a quirk to her lips, at that. "Emphatically, as he's said a ton of times." Allison stares as Malia chuckles slightly. Sits there and is able to  _laugh,_ while Allison can only stare - and she's suddenly so  _viciously angry._

It went as soon as it came, and Allison was so blindsided by it that she nearly missed what Malia said next.

"I don't... really know why," Malia said. "He's been here a week, maybe. Stiles already hates him. But then; it's Stiles.  _I'm_ more trusting than he is."

That was true. Also... fairly sad, now that Allison thinks about it. But then - she can't exactly fault Stiles. After all, if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?

Allison desperately wanted to hear some news about Isaac, Lydia, Scott - but Malia doesn't say anything about them. She talked about what's happened recently, and Allison was distinctly aware of a time-gap that she missed.

They're in senior year.  _Senior year._ Most of her friends are eighteen.

That's older than she _ever_ got to be. 

And again - Allison is suddenly, horribly,  _terribly_ angry - and she's not sure what she does, but she lashes out - she grabs Malia's shoulder and  _shoves._

Nothing happens. Malia frowns and brushes at her shoulder as if she thinks a fly or something landed on it, but that is the extent of her reaction. 

Allison's anger is gone, now. She feels suddenly guilty - none of this is Malia's fault. Allison didn't really even meet her, let alone get to know her, let alone come to understand her part in all of this. 

Malia sighs. "Well, that's that, I guess." She said, then got up. Allison got up too, suddenly terrified of being left alone here, among the gravestones. 

Allison wondered if mood swings were going to be a problem. Hopefully not, because she didn't want to hurt anyone. 

Malia turned to leave the graveyard, and Allison followed. It got harder and harder, until it was like walking through sludge, but she managed it for the most part.

Then Malia started getting further and further away. Allison couldn't let that happen.

Allison lunged - driven by some force she didn't know and didn't recognise as her own - sunk her meagre nails into Malia's arm. 

 _That_ made the girl flinch. Malia looked around, suspicious. When she didn't see anything, she checked her arm. 

Five marks. Greenish-black, blackish-silver. Allison could almost see something within them, but it was too small to make out.

Malia frowned. "What?..." She started, trailed off.

 _It's not important,_ Allison found herself thinking. Malia seemed to shrug the marks off, dropped her sleeve. 

There were no holes in the flannel, Allison knew. She also knew that that shirt was Stiles', so she figured the two must be dating, now. Pretty serious, even. 

Allison swallows, suddenly heavy. Can she be seen? Allison thought, wildly. Would she be able to show herself to someone; to prove she isn't really gone?

 _Lydia._ Allison decides, immediately. Lydia could see her, surely? She's a banshee; she senses death. Ghosts are dead, right? And that's what Allison is. A not departed spirit. 

Malia frowns around herself again, before moving on. Allison finds herself following the girl unconsciously - finds her feet going left right, left right, finds her legs are cooperating, finds that she seems to know where Malia is going without having asked.

Malia approaches Lydia's house. Allison sees her frown, slightly, then shrug it off. She knocks - one, twice, thrice; demanding - and then waits, impatient. 

"Malia?" The door is answered by Natalie. "I thought your study session was tomorrow?"

"Can't I just want to see a friend?" Malia asked, blunt - and Natalie hesitates but nods. "Come on in," She said, and Malia went inside. Allison slipped in before the door could close because she didn't want the hassle of trying to go straight through it. 

Malia went upstairs, as familiar here as Allison once was, and Allison gets a sharp stab of jealousy where her gut used to be. Lydia's moved on. Scott's moved on. Isaac's moved on. Stiles has moved on. Kira's moved on. They've all moved on - Lydia's got a new best friend, now, it seems. 

Allison suddenly wants to do  _something._ Something like what those poltergeists do in horror movies; she wants to paint a mirror in blood, cover walls with messages scratched into the plasterwork. She wants to rearrange furniture and she wants to cause  _terror._

Her non-existent breath caught in her throat. Allison had a hand flat on her gut, right over the wound, and she could feel the black blood oozing out of it - feel the torn, ragged edges, and if she put her hand inside she knew she'd feel bone, the bottom of her stomach, her  _intestines._

 

Her hand comes away stained with blood. Allison doesn't realise when it happens - but she's suddenly in Lydia's on-suite, and there's a handprint on Lydia's mirror. 

Allison stares in shock. She steps back as if to try and distance herself, but she hits the open door. 

There's a thud. The voices she could hear from Lydia's room quiet, instantly. Allison's heartbeat pounds in her ears - or the echo of it, anyway - as she waits, scared, for either girl to enter the room, to see the mess she's made.

It's not actually a mess. It's a single, impeccable bloody handprint. But Allison didn't want to put her friend throught that - through wondering how it got there, through the fear and stress it could cause. 

Allison grabs a towel and tugs, tugs,  _tugs,_ and she finally picks it up. It's heavy, so heavy, heavier than a towel had any right to be, but Allison lifed it up and up, and dragged it down the mirror. The blood comes away as if it never existed, though the towel is now stained. Allison dropped the towel, and the blood went away.

It made another thudding sound, though. Allison metaphorically stopped breathing, as the voices - tentative voices - stopped talking again. Allison scrambled into the bath and pulled the shower curtain violently and noisily across the side, and flattened herself against the base of the bath.

"Is there something in your bathroom?" Malia asked. 

"Prada?" Lydia called out. "Are you where you shouldn't be?"

Allison held breath she didn't need to hold, and waited, echo-heart still pounding in her ears, in her head, to the beat of some unknown drum. 

"Prada?" Lydia asked again, less certain. 

"I'll go have a look," Malia said, decisively. 

Allison figured Malia never got around to watching horror movies. That would be the only reason she'd decide to actually go  _towards_ the noises. 

Allison sees the girl's shadow through the curtain, as Malia looks around the room. Allison wants to speak to Lydia alone, but she doesn't think now is the best time.

Still. She didn't have much of a choice. 

Allison focused on that strange whiteness that she'd seen when she'd moved from downstairs to here - she foucsed on that, on Lydia, and  _pushed._

Allison blinked, as Lydia paled, mouth open as if to scream, but in slow motion. Quick as a flash - quicker, Allison thought - she covered Lydia's mouth and...  _absorbed_ the sound. 

Allison shivered, suddenly cold. She could hear something - voices, quiet murmuring, uncertain and wary - before they were both gone. The cold and the voices. 

Lydia stared up at her, wild-eyed, wide-eyed, and Allison deliberately mouthed 'sorry'.

Lydia stared some more, in shock. Malia returned the room - or was about to. A sudden surge of panic and  _don't interrupt_ forces her back into the bathroom. She locks the door with a loud-sounding  _click,_ and Lydia flinches. 

"I'm sorry," Allison tries. But Lydia can't seem to hear her. She just stares some more, through her, at her, both at once.

She's a banshee. Allison knows. 

But it isn't enough. 

Allison suddenly feels _wronge_ _d._ She felt angry, and humiliated, and  _hurt,_ above all and she -

She snarled, felt her face twist into something ugly and unlike her, and moved the hand covering Lydia's mouth to sit tight around her neck.

Allison  _squeezed._ She'd been  _forgotten,_ she'd been  _left, **dead,** and they  **had moved on.**_

Here Lydia was - beautiful, powerful Lydia - and she was - she was -

She was crying. Allison baulked, let go of her neck, scrambled backwards until she fell and when that happened crawled back into the corner, huddled into herself.

She'd hurt Lydia.  _Lydia._

And she'd enjoyed it. Felt... vindicated. 

Allison felt sick. She wanted to be sick. Could she be sick? Could she be sick without vomiting up her insides?

Lydia stared at her, pale as a ghost, white as a sheet, eyes wide and so, so green. 

Green. Jealousy, Nausea. Grass, Trees, the dress in Allison's wardrobe that Lydia said suited her best. 

The eyes of her best friend. The best friend she'd just - just -

"Lydia!" Malia called out, banged against the door. "Lydia are you okay?"

"I'm - " Lydia started. Paused. Looked at Allison - really looked at her. Allison couldn't meet her eyes again - not with what she'd seen in them last - but Lydia appeared to find what she wanted.

"I'm fine," Lydia said. "Why'd you lock yourself in my bathroom, exactly?"

 _needed to use it,_ Allison thought, she thought that because she knew now that she could influence Malia's actions, she knew now that she needed someone she was in the head of to go anywhere.

Allison didn't want to go back to the graveyard. She'd need to change anchor (ha, Anchor. Allison's not a were, but she needs an anchor) so that doesn't happen. 

"... I needed to use it," Malia said, eventually. Allison's losing her grip, her hold - Malia's got a strong will. She's fighting back. 

Allison doesn't know her well enough to figure out how to stop that. She really, really needs a new host. Stat. 

(Stiles could work, she thought. It would be cruel, but Stiles - the guilt he has... she could work with that. Scott... she doesn't want to use Scott, and Kira, she doesn't know well enough.

Stiles it is, then. Allison's glad she snagged his girlfriend.)

"Then come on out," Lydia says, still staring at Allison. Allison wills her previous command of non-interruption away, and Malia walks in, calm and straight-forward. As she always is. 

Wait. 'As she always is?' When did Allison learn that?

Allison tugs at the sleeve of her jacket, and stares back at Lydia, though much less unflinchingly. 

"So, why'd you come here anyway?" Lydia asked.

"To see a friend," Malia didn't need any prompting for that. It was true for both of them, Allison knew - as much as she hated it, which was much more than she would have thought herself capable of - 

"I see," Lydia said. Malia glanced at Lydia, frowned, and followed her gaze. 

"Oh," Malia said. "Banshee episode?"

"You could say that," Lydia responded, tone dead.  

 _We have to go._ Allison thought, suddenly aware of the danger in the air. Lydia was a banshee. She sensed death. 

Perhaps she had, by nature, a predisposition  _against_ ghosts? Against what Allison is now?

That hurt more than Allison wanted to admit. It hurt, it  _burned,_ it made her  _angry._

Her face nearly contorted with it, but Allison forcefully pushed the feelings down. Allison would not hurt her friends, she would  _not._

Malia frowned and checked the time.

"Crap," She muttered. "I forgot; I need to go see Stiles. Rain check?" She asked, standing. Malia walked to the door. Allison stood, shaky, and mouthed 'thank you' to Lydia.

Lydia's return nod was short and crisp. She looked like she was trying to hold herself back from something - what, Allison didn't know. Once Malia was out of the room, Allison fled - teleported, and suddenly she was in Stiles' room.

Allison blinked. Stiles was sitting in his chair, frowning at his computer screen.

Records, Allison could see over his shoulder. A driving ticket? Stiles shouldn't have access to that, Allison knows - it's not even from the Beacon Hills' sheriff department, so how he got it, Allison both didn't know and figured to be highly illegal. 

Stiles reached up, frowning, and scratched at the side of his neck - where Allison's hair was brushing against him. Allison stepped back, quick-flash, and Stiles frowned, tapped his neck.

"Weird," He muttered to himself. Okay, so she could cause irritation just by having her hair fall on someone's skin. That was - okay. Allison could work with that. 

Malia entered the room. Allison realised that she hadn't had to be next to Malia the whole time - but then, this room, Stiles' room, it  _sensed,_ for lack of a better word, like Malia. Like Stiles - like the both of them in equal measure. 

Malia stayed here, then. Huh. Allison had been right; they are pretty serious. 

"Hey," Malia greeted, and Stiles smiled in return. Allison felt a familiar stab of jealousy at the sight - at two people so obviously in love, at two people who could be together.

Allison would never have that again. Isaac wasn't here - nowhere sensed of him, that much Allison could just  _tell,_ and she didn't have anyone else who she had wanted to feel that with at the time of her death. 

Allison glowered at Stiles, and instinct took over again. She lunged forward - and time seemed to slow around her as she reached out, fingers ready to dig in and not let go -

Allison's hand slams into his shoulder blade. Her fingers go in deeper, this time - and maybe it's because he's human, but she can sense more pain than Malia felt - but he doesn't react, not even as much as his girlfriend had - yet Allison can sense that pain, why isn't he -

He's used to it, she recognises, dimly. His whole body hurt worse than this when the nogitsune had split from him - occasionally, he still feels that phantom pain. That's what Stiles thinks this is - phantom pain.

But Allison isn't the only one here who can sense pain. Malia suddenly narrowed her eyes at Stiles.

"What?" He said, defensively. "I know, okay, I'm technically stalking him, but - you  _know_ there's something up, right?" He asks, sounding slightly desperate. "Just - I need to know. For sure. For my peace of mind, okay?"

Malia frowns at him some more. "You're hurt," She accuses, ignoring what he'd just said. 

"And - wait. What?" He asked, now frowning himself. "Uhm... no, no I'm not."

He believes that, Allison knew, distantly. He believes he's not in pain. 

"Yes you are." Malia said. "I can smell it on you."

"No," He shook his head. "I'm not."

Malia growled slightly, impatient, and gestured for him to take his shirt off.

"I mean, if you wanted to make out, you could have said," Stiles said dryly. 

"Not the time," Malia said. "Later. First - it's coming from your shoulder. Let me see."

Stiles sighs and turns around, his back to both Malia and Allison. Stiles pulls his t-shirt up and off, and Malia starts inspecting his shoulderblade - and freezes. 

Shit.  _Putain._

Malia drops her shirt to the floor and shows Stiles the marks on her arm.

"What-" He frowns at them. 

"They're on your back," Malia said, bluntly. "Bigger, though. There's like - a symbol, within them, but I can't quite tell what it is."

_Fuck fuck fuck-_

"Take a picture?" Stiles asked. 

_no no no no-_

No.

Allison strides forwards, and thinks, as powerfully as possible -

_NO._

Malia stops, mid-movement. Stiles pales, his moles standing in stark contrast against his skin. "Did you hear that?" He asked. 

Oh. Hearing voices no one else can hear. Allison feels - she almost feels bad about putting him through this, again. But not quite. 

She needs to stay. She wants to help them. 

"... Yes," Malia struggles to say. Stiles already has his t-shirt back on and Malia's phone is back in her pocket as if they've forgotten about the need to photograph the marks on Stiles' back.

Stiles lets out a relieved breath, a gush of air. "Good.  _Good."_

Allison swallows. She knows what it's like to not know what's real and what isn't, and that is why she feels bad. Allison knows it should be because she's putting a friend through all of this, but the truth is - 

It's because she can relate. 

Stiles hasn't looked her way, yet. Allison - she has this feeling he'd be able to see her. That Scott would be able to see her. 

Why is that? They're not like Lydia; not banshees. And it can't be werewolf sight because Stiles is... not. A werewolf. 

"Not really," Malia disagrees. 

"Well, no, a shared hallucination is still a halucination," Stiles said, dryly, "But it's less likely to be a hallucination than something we actually heard."

"Alright," Malia said. "Where'd it come from, then?"

 _Outside,_ Allison thought. Stiles - cocked his head to the side, as if he was listening to something.

"Hey," Malia snapped, clicked her fingers in front of his eyes. "Stop that."

Allison had to admit it was kind of creepy. Stiles blinked at Malia. "Sorry," He said. "Just thinking." Malia sighed and started slowly pacing, calmly pacing - some other form of oxymoron about pacing - and Allison felt safe enough to continue mentally giving Stiles instructions. 

 _Outside,_ she thought.  _A neighbour, yelling._

"Probably just Ms Brown," Stiles offered. "She's always yelling at her kids when they want to like - actually rob a bank, or something."

"Right," Malia nodded. She didn't seem certain, but Allison didn't have enough of a hold over her as she needed to make her be. 

Allison took a second to glance at the marks on Malia's arm. They were fading - slowly but surely fading, Allison knew. They didn't look like they were, but Allison still knew, all the same. 

 "Well," Malia sighed, "I need to go. See you soon?"

Stiles nodded. Malia left the room, and Allison didn't feel like she needed to follow. There was this awareness, in the back of her head - what Malia was doing, where she was going, the plans she had for the rest of the evening - but Allison didn't need to follow her, as she had done before.

She had two anchor points, now. Allison figured she could be anywhere they were, or any place that they went to regularly. 

Stiles turned back to his documents. Allison glanced over them - but when his eyes lit up and he sensed like triumph, Allison couldn't tell what had caused it. Stiles printed out two documents and then hurried over to his printer. 

Now Allison could see his face properly, she saw how tired he looked. Or - how tired he was. Stiles didn't actually look anywhere near as bad as he had while possessed, he looked healthy enough - but Allison figured she could see what others couldn't. 

The dark shadows around his eyes were both unnerving and worrisome. Allison stood back, both in case he could see her and so she wouldn't have to see what he prefers to hide, and at that moment Stiles took the two documents out. Stiles removed a pen from his desk and circled two signatures - Theo Raeken's dad's signature, both times - and started annotating the left page; the more recent document.

Once he pointed out the differences, Allison couldn't miss them. They were tiny differences, but they were the sort of differences that once added up, caused an obvious, neon sign that the person who wrote the original signature was not the same as the one who wrote the new one. 

"Gotcha," Stiles said, and grabbed his phone. "Liam!" He said, cheerfuly - there was an undertone, though, Allison could tell. His smile wasn't a nice one.

"Can I ask a favour?"

* * *

 

The three - this Liam kid, Stiles and Allison - treck through the woods. 

"What are we doing again?" Liam asked.

"Tracking Theo," Stiles said. "Look at these," Stiles handed Liam the documents. "See the difference?"

"Yeah," Liam said, "Yeah, I do."

"Good." Stiles nodded to himself. "So I want you to make sure he doesn't give out murderous chemo-signals, okay?"

Liam nodded. 

Allison frowned to herself. Despite what she knew, and what she could see, Stiles seemed...

Normal. Like he had been before the nogitsune - if a little warier. 

The three come across a tree that Stiles has them hide behind. Stiles seemed to know where he was going a little too well, but Allison dismissed that thought. Stiles' business was his own. 

"Well?" Stiles muttered, as quiet as you could get. Even Allison had to strain to hear him. 

"Soap," Liam said. "It's nice." 

Stiles looked flatly ahead of himself. Then, he pinched at the space between his eyebrows. "Chemo-signals, Liam?"

"Sorry," Liam said. "I can't smell them below the soap."

Both Stiles and Allison paused at that. Allison, because that was a tactic she wished she'd used more often and Stiles; because that was  _suspicious._

"Right," Stiles mutters. He narrows his eyes at Theo - and seems to realise something. 

"Shit." He said, a little too loud. "Let's go, runt-" He grabs Liam by the arm and starts walking, quickly, in the opposite direction.

"What?" Liam asked, a little too loud also.

 _Quieter!_ Allison hissed in Stiles' brain, and he winced.

 _"Keep it down,"_ Stiles muttered, "And... his sister died there."

Oh. "Oh," Liam muttered. Stiles grunted in affirmation - Allison could have sworn she sensed... something before it was gone - and the two tried to make a break for it.

Theo was in a tree.

"Tree!" Allison said aloud, forgetting herself. Stiles still got the memo, though - he looked up, and sighed. Went to stand slightly in front of Liam and took the papers from him as Theo dropped to the ground.

"You aren't a superhero, Raeken," Stiles said, bored. "Please stop with the dramatics."

"I was just going to ask what you guys are doing here," Theo said. Allison frowned at him. He sensed of genuine curiosity, but he also sensed of amusement. Most of his attention was on Stiles - it flickered towards Liam as he tried to move in front of Stiles, but it went back to Stiles as he held 'the runt' back. 

Stiles sighed, aloud and mentally - the mental one the only one showing signs of his frustration. Of course, it bled through in his following action; to press against his top lip, hard, before grimacing and looking away.

"Stiles, we were in little league together," Theo pointed out. Allison blinked in surprise - this also seemed like news to the Liam kid, who frowned between the two teens like he was watching a tennis match. 

"Why are you so suspicious of me?" Theo asked, genuinely confused. Allison almost felt bad for him; being on the receiving end of either Stiles' anger or suspicion was never nice, from what she'd seen - but... there was something. Something just sensed  _off,_ but she didn't know him well enough (or at all) to judge. "Because of these," Stiles replies.

"One's a speeding ticket signed by your dad eight years ago. The other one's a signature on a transfer form to Beacon High. They're different." He explains, holds out the two documents expectantly. 

Theo walks over - Stiles nudges Liam back, slightly, who goes along with it. Theo inspects the two documents. "Huh," He says. "They  _are_ different."

Allison can sense the briefest spike of genuine  _anger_ before it's squashed. Liam instinctively narrows his eyes at Theo but seems confused as to why.

 _Something's up, something's up,_ Allison thinks at Stiles. Stiles squints at Theo in suspicion, before he responds: "No, they're totally different. Signed by two different people."

"So, what, my dad isn't my dad?" Theo asked. "You know, I think I'd notice that."

Stiles glared at him, and he held his hands up; pacifying. Practiced. 

"Yes," Stiles confirmed. "Something like that."

Stiles doesn't think Theo's dad is the bad person, here, Allison can tell. He's incredibly  _certain_ that it's Theo - and even he doesn't know exactly why.

_(Same feeling I got around Matt, and Ms Blake, different to the suspicion I had of Kira because of the Nogitsune disliking her and influencing my thoughts, different to the wariness and dislike I've had of certain people.)_

Allison blinked. What? - 

"Who do you think I am?" Theo asks. It's almost like they've forgotten Liam was there at all, Allison notices.  "We don't know yet," Stiles admits, seems angry at something for that. Probably himself.  "Want me to give you a DNA sample or something?" Theo asks, and Stiles rolls his eyes. "No. I don't have anything from the fourth grade to match it to."

Right. That's a Stiles-type answer if Allison's ever heard one. 

"You know, Stiles, I came back here for Scott..." Theo looks down, a second - Allison's not sure why. Stiles looks - like he expected that. The kind of expression that says 'here we go... again', like he knows this, because this is something that happens often.

Allison thinks about that - she focuses on her peception of time, and stretches it out, so she can without missing anything - and she thinks about that.

There's a lot of people that care about Scott. A lot of people that hate him, too. A lot of the time, that hate or that care isn't really directed towards anyone else aside from Scott because Scott is a great guy. Allison can tell he's not jealous, exactly - Stiles cares about Scott a great deal more than Scott realises, Allison thinks, now that she has this link that lets her see into his head - but he's... resigned to it. To the idea that for most people, Scott would come first. Even to his dad, sometimes.

_(Scott! Stiles! He'd called out Scotty's name first. Back when Matt was running around shooting people. Isn't that telling?)_

Allison blinked. She hadn't been present for that, but she could hear it. Like an auditory memory, but one that's not her own.

There's time for that later, she decided. Allison nodded to herself and focused back on a normal perspective of time.

"...but I also came back for you," Theo said. Stiles seemed - she's not sure. He's just... staring. Just staring. "Someone like you. Someone who's willing to - walk into the woods in the middle of the night to protect his friends." Theo sounded almost incredulous like he didn't think that sort of person existed; like he hadn't experienced that sort of friendship. He also sounded - fond.

Allison didn't know as much as she thought she had about her friends, it seemed. About Beacon Hills before Scott got bitten. 

"I don't have anyone like that, but Scott does. You all do. I know I'm in the right place. I'm meant to be here. I'm meant to be part of this pack." Theo said, emphatically. Genuine, and insistent - like he believed what he was saying. 

Stiles tensed his jaw and lifted his head, looked to the side, and looked back. He looked askance at Theo... then sighed. 

"Alright." He said. He sounded genuine enough, but Allison was inside his head. He still had his doubts - he wasn't fooled, not in the slightest. Well, fooled from his perspective; Allison still hadn't figured out if his paranoia was affecting her or not. 

"I'm - " He stopped, glanced at Liam. Liam seemed to ask 'you sure' without saying it, and Stiles nodded. Liam wandered off, and Stiles turned back to Theo. 

"She has a grave, you know," Stiles said. "She got buried after you left. I..."

Stiles didn't seem like he knew how to finish that sentence. 

"Thanks," Theo said. Stiles shrugged. 

Allison felt almost - strange. Like she shouldn't be here, really. Like there was some shared history she was now privy to that she shouldn't be. 

Theo handed back the papers. "If you find anything more inconsistent about my dad, maybe there is something going on." Theo offered. 

"Sure," Stiles nodded. He wasn't agreeing, of course. 

Theo smiled slightly at him. Fond. Amused.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

 _Get out of here,_ Allison thought. It was - she couldn't exactly jump to where Malia was (in the shower) and she didn't want to just sit around doing nothing, awkwardly listening in on conversations. 

Stiles tilted his head again. Allison wished he'd be less obvious about that. 

"D'you hear that?" Stiles muttered like he wasn't really even talking to Theo, as he glanced around suspiciously.

Theo raised an eyebrow at him. 

"No," He said, slowly. Allison panicked. She couldn't have this - couldn't have anyone more than Lydia know without being linked. She needed to be able to stop them from telling anyone, to stop them from stopping her from helping.

Allison reached out and slammed her fingers into Theo's side. Theo grimaced, grabbed at his side, and his hand went straight through her's. 

Like it was smoke. Allison saw red, and the next second she knew, Theo was curled up on the floor, breathing heavily, as if his airway had recently been constricted.

"What the fuck," Stiles said, flatly. 

Stiles, warily, crouched down and poked Theo in the arm. Theo opened his eyes a fraction. Stiles was surprisingly pale, Allison noticed -  _like he'd just seen a ghost._

"Was I hallucinating or did - did _someone_ just start choking you?" 

_(Allison Allison Allison Allison; oh, Ally A, what are you doing with me?)_

Allison froze.

Theo looked pale, too. "I -" 

_(Sister, fuck, what - how - **my sister -)**_

Stiles pursed his lips. "This is gonna sound weird," Stiles said. "But you clutched your side before that happened, yeah?" 

Theo nodded, slowly. "...I'm gonna need to see that, then," Stiles said, less awkwardly than he felt. 

Theo looked at him, askance. "Trust me," Stiles said, "I'd rather not. But... I just - something's been... happening, and I need to make sure that it's what I think it is. What just happened."

Allison swallowed. Her fear over being discovered might actually cause that discovery - how ironic. 

Theo nodded and reached down to lift up his hoodie, Stiles grimaced, sighed, then inspected the area.

"Yeah," Stiles nodded. "You can drop that now. Anyway - yeah, It's the same." Stiles nodded. "We didn't get a picture, so I'll just ask Malia to send one -"

 _NO!_ Allison mentally screamed at him, and Stiles flinched; a full-body thing. He hesitated - but then his face grew stony, those shadows she could see almost bled through to his actual face, and he took out his phone. It seemed almost painful, for him to refuse her orders - Allison felt  _horrible,_ she really, trully did - but she needed to not be found -

 _Delete it after,_ she commanded, a reluctant compromise.  _Delete it after._

Stiles relaxed. 

( _Okay, disembodied voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Allison. God, I hope you're not Allison.)_

Allison's breath hitched in her throat at that, but she ignored it. Stiles texted Malia, waited, then turned his phone around so that Theo could see it.

"Marks," He said. "So I've got those?"

"Yeah," Stiles said. "But more like a horizontal brand against your side. I've got like, a circle on my shoulder blade, and Malia's got a cluster on the back of her bicep. And they look weaker than the ones on my back and your side. Whatever made them didn't know what they were doing then, but they've gotten better at it now."

Theo nodded and struggled to stand. Stiles sighed and hauled him upright, then let go and turned around. 

"Hey, where are you going?" Theo demanded, caught up with Stiles - who glared straight ahead and didn't say anything in return.

Okay. That was sudden. Allison had thought they were alright before, but apparently not. 

"... My Jeep." Stiles said, flatly. 

"Well, me too," Theo said. "Not to your jeep, to mine."

Stiles closed his eyes momentarily. "You have a jeep," He sighed, aloud. 

Allison was the only one who saw Theo's smirk. "Yeah," He said. "And?..."

"Nothing," Stiles semi-snapped. "Why are you walking with me?"

"There's a lot'ta monsters in these woods, Stiles," Theo reminded him.

"And I've thrown a molotov cocktail at an alpha werewolf," Stiles snapped in response. "I'll be fine."

"Well, you don't have any flammables on you  _now,"_ Theo pointed out. "I know that," Stiles grumbled. " _Not_ my point."

This was... strange, Allison thought. But she wasn't about to do anything because she'd just lost control and apparently shown herself as Theo's dead sister strangling him to death. Which. 

Ouch. 

The three arrived at the cars - and Stiles scowled at Theo's jeep.

"No way," Theo said. "That thing's still running?" He asked, grinning. 

"Shut up about Roscoe," Stiles grumbled. Theo shook his head and smiled to himself. "Well, see you at school, then," He said, got into his jeep, and drove off.

"Asshole," Stiles muttered to himself. Loud enough for a werewolf to hear from the distance away Theo was - and that, Allison knew, was entirely deliberate. 

Stiles got into his jeep - Allison pushed herself through the passenger-side window. Stiles drove them off back to his house, and Allison knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. 

Allison sighed. 

 _Sleep when you get home,_ She thought.  _you're really tired. You've been up all night, recently, what with Donovan and Tracey and all the random disappear-reappearances that result in death. You need rest._

Allison was calm with her words, but Stiles tensed up. He relaxed after a moment and nodded to - himself. Her; the disembodied voice.

_(Fine. If only because I owe you a hell of a lot.)_

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Given What Happened, Probably Something Like This. (Hopefully Not. But You Aren't Quite Yourself, Are You?)

Allison scrambled out of the driver's side door after Stiles and slipped through just before he closed it. Stiles shivered as if he could sense her proximity, and Allison winced, stepped back. 

Stiles blew out a slow, calming breath, and then laughed humourlessly. "And I thought that shit was over." He muttered to himself. Chuckled, shaking his head.

That - startled her. The last time Allison had heard Stiles chuckle was when it hadn't been Stiles, and the stark reminder of the fact that everything the Nogitsune did was simply just a twisted variant of Stiles' own mannerisms was -

Painful. Almost. Allison was beginning to realise all her feelings were only  _almost_ feelings - like the shade of something she remembers, but can't relive. 

Like a memory. Like the echo of her heartbeat, the knowledge of what wood should feel like to her fingertips. 

Stiles went up to his door and unlocked it, entered, and pocketed the keys. 

"Dad?" He called out - and Allison was hit with the sudden realization that he didn't expect an answer. That that; not expecting an answer - scared him half to death, sometimes. 

Stiles waited for a beat, then shrugged when he didn't get anything in response.  ** _Overnight shift, then,_** he thought to himself as he walked upstairs. 

Allison knew having a sheriff for your only parent was likely not to be great for someone with anxiety - but she hadn't realised quite how... empty, Stiles' house seemed. To Allison, Stiles' footsteps practically echoed in the silence. 

He entered his room, and Allison knew he was about to get ready for bed so she stayed outside to give him some privacy. Allison wandered the hallway; looked at the paintings on the wall that didn't seem like anything either of the men who lived there would choose, looked at the little animal statuettes and the patterns on the curtains and thought -

It's hard to live in a house with ghosts. After all - Allison would know. She'd just... when she was alive, she'd never really thought about how much longer Stiles had been living that than she had. How the Sheriff had been living that reality much longer than both her and her dad combined. 

No wonder he was never home. 

Allison wandered into a room (well, took a minute to push herself through the doorway) and found herself in the Sheriff's room. She almost went back, but curiosity got the better of her. 

It was a simple room, but Allison could tell what had changed in the intervening years and what hadn't. The curtains, the carpet, the desk, the dresser, the mirror - it all screamed  _couple's bedroom._

Allison walked over to the shelf, the one with books on it, and took one down. It was a photo album, she realised, then had the instinct to close it. The shock caused her to lose concentration, and the book dropped to the floor with a dull thunk - luckily, she could hear the shower running. 

If she made some noises, for at least a few minutes, she didn't have to worry too much about being caught. 

Allison bent down and picked up the book again, then perched herself on the bed. 

Allison - didn't really know all that much about Stiles, really. She knew what Scott had told her and what Stiles himself had told her (Allison had pretty quickly come to understand that Scott was a more reliable source, at least for the stuff he was present for) but they never really talked about life before Allison got to Beacon Hills. There were times when Lydia and Scott and Stiles would know something she just didn't and it'd be a 'beacon hills thing', or a 'scandal', or just something important she really should have known, as their friends. 

Allison didn't find out Stiles' mom had died for... a while. Scott had apparently known, but not been there for it, for what Allison could gather. Allison had been under the impression that they'd known each other since they were little kids, but apparently, that wasn't the case. 

Fourth grade. That's all Allison knows. Now, at least. With access to memories not her own. 

Allison hesitated, but she looked through the album all the same. Three people - and the Sheriff looked so out of place in them; blonde hair and grey eyes and permanently tanned skin next to paleness and moles and dark hair and dark eyes. 

He looked like his mother, Allison found. Did that hurt the Sheriff, sometimes? She wondered. To look at his son and see a dead woman. 

Maybe when the wound was fresh. Allison doesn't really look like either of her parents; lucky recessive genes, apparently. Still... Allison doesn't know how Stiles dealt with that. With looking like the lost one. 

Allison closed the book. She felt - bad. She'd snooped, and not in the way that she and her friends did all of the time. 

Allison returned the book to the shelf. It was dusty, she realised. The sheriff probably didn't have that much time to clean... and Allison was much, much better off than most of her friends, money wise. Her house had been spotless, because of that. 

Stiles was back in his room, and Malia was here too. Allison didn't know what to do, exactly, so she drifted into Stiles' room. 

Their room. Allison could tell that Malia practically lived here, these days. 

Oh my god. That was adorable. Allison grinned, giddy, at the two in the bed.

She dropped down to the floor at the end of the bed. Allison didn't really have much choice, so she settled down to wait for morning. 

* * *

 Allison didn't end up waiting for morning. 

She blinked herself to awareness, then glanced around. This felt... familiar. 

The hospital. Allison frowned. Why was she-?

Allison cautiously started walking through the halls. The place was empty, and dark, and slightly hazy; like a dream that she knew was one. 

A memory. This - this wasn't Allison's memory. 

Allison walked the steps her feet knew to take her, and then she was looking over her shoulder, looking back straight ahead and walking through a set of double doors. 

There was something here. Allison felt a strange calm - like she could do  _anything._ Like she wanted to see what They'd do. 

What She could do, as him. Allison frowned. Mentally; her face stayed flat; impassive.

_What-?_

She thought - but paused. Something... 

Allison whipped around, and her breath caught in her throat. 

 _Oni._ She turned around, only to come face-to-face with another one, and she had to make several steps backwards.

They were surrounding Him. They needed to do something so that She can do what He needs to do with this boy. This little host of theirs. 

Allison froze. This was - 

The Oni in front of her reached out, as if to mark her. Allison knew that if this happened, Stiles would have  _died,_ right there on the spot and there's  _no-one here so what-?_

Allison - no, Stiles; she sees now (this is very,  _very_ strange) - snaps his hand up and grabs the Oni's arm. He turns his head to the Oni's hand. The Oni looks on, tilts its head; curious. 

Allison hadn't known the Oni could be curious. Allison looked back up -  _Stiles, no **the nogitsune**_ \- looked back up; tilted its head towards the Oni, looked at it more with its eyes than Stiles' face. 

Then, the nogitsune slammed his and the Oni's hand into the Oni's chest. The nogitsune removed Stiles' hand, clenched, with something wriggling about suddenly  _crushed_ in his palm. 

So the nogitsune could kill Oni, then.

 _With the right host._ Something whispered to her.  _With the right host, any spirit can do anything._

The nogitsune took that moment to turn, dramatically - Allison had the sudden, hysterical, crazy thought that if this was a scene on a TV show, she'd have likely thought it  _cool (if horribly terrifying) -_

And the Oni rushed forward; shadows on the attack. One second, there were two Oni left. The next - Allison (no, the nogitsune in Stiles) was standing there, back to a door Allison could hear opening. 

"Stiles?" She heard.  _Scott._ Oh god, did something? - 

"You okay?" Suddenly, Allison was hit with a surge of  _anger._ It wasn't her own anger - it wasn't even the nogtisune's.

Allison felt herself smirk before she felt  _something_ change, and she turned her head before turning her body, as she said, "Yeah." She'd fully turned around before she said - "I'm fine." Stiles, now truly Stiles, went over to Scott and clapped him on the shoulder. 

Not truly Stiles. Even Allison was fooled, and she's inside his head. the last fly dropped to the floor, unnoticed, and dying. 

* * *

Allison jerked awake. 

"Stiles," She heard. "Shh,  _Stiles."_

Allison hadn't known Malia. But she hadn't pegged the girl as having the ability to sound  _soft._

"Hey," Malia said. Allison stayed steadfast in her place on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Hey, Stiles, come on."

"Ugh." Stiles groaned. "Sorry, Mal."

"It's fine," She said, immediately. "Goes to show you're never really over that sort of thing, huh?" Stiles muttered. 

"We're being messed with," Malia said, wholly certain. "That's what brought them back."

"It's just -" Stiles grunted in annoyance. "It's not even... I wasn't even  _scared."_

Oh. Allison had been terrified - given that short burst of anger, that must mean the majority of emotions she experiences in these memory-dreams are always going to be hers. 

_Great._

"I know," Malia said. "You don't smell like it."

Allison could tell that Stiles was nodding. But - "That's not the point," Stiles sighed.

"... I know," Malia said. Allison, through these strange links of her's, could practically feel  _and_ see that he'd closed his eyes. Allison hesitated, then closed her own eyes, and focused on what Malia was experiencing. 

Holy -  _merde, abort, abort -_

Okay. Maybe Allison should try someone without enhanced senses, first?

Allison took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried again. Almost immediately, she could see what Stiles was seeing - and wasn't that a strange feeling. 

Stiles pressed his bottom lip against his teeth with his tongue hard enough that it  _almost_ hurt, before he grimaced and glanced away from Malia. "I just," He sighed, explosive, and Malia reached out, smoothed a hand down his left arm. 

Allison shivered. That felt like a real feeling, and that was - strange, to say the least. 

"I know you know," Stiles said, quietly. Malia quirked the saddest of smiles his way - barely a lifting of one side of her mouth - and Stiles did the same in her direction. 

Allison opened her eyes and detached herself from the both of them before they kissed - Allison didn't want to be  _that_ kind of ghost. The two lay down again, ready to sleep. 

Allison had had enough of this, she suddenly decided - angry and stuck and  _jealous,_ all of a sudden (yet again) at what they had that she could never attain, ever again. 

Allison closed her eyes and focused on  _Theo,_ and she was gone from the couple's bedroom.

* * *

Theo was in his house, from what Allison could tell. She was stuck far, far too close to him for her liking - Allison felt that it was because she'd met him when a ghost. She hadn't really met Malia, truthfully, but she'd known of her before she died. So that meant the link was weak but usable - for Theo, the link was strong but constricting. 

She couldn't leave his room. It was dark, in here, and she didn't have enhanced vision, unfortunately. Maybe she'd gain it after a while of being a ghost (and Allison really does not want to think about that) or maybe she wouldn't, but the point still stands that now, she can't really see anything. Theo was in his bed, the room was dark (Almost as if there were no windows... which was odd, and honestly a little worrying) and Allison couldn't see, and couldn't move more than a foot away from Theo. 

Which meant she had the awkward necessity of curling up at the end of his bed (Allison's glad it's a strangely long bed and that he's pretty short, in all honesty) in order to be comfortable while she waited for morning. 

* * *

 

This time, she didn't go into any memories. She was in his head, that much Allison knew - but she didn't go into any memories. 

Dreams, she thought. Thinks he dreamt about; things he wanted, things he feared. Nightmares.

He wasn't dreaming tonight - Allison got to choose. She chose not to choose, and whatever force that made her be here chose for her. 

* * *

The world around her was distorted, far more than it had been when in Stiles' memory. Allison could pick out words here and there - power, failure, alpha, killer, to name a few - but it was scattered and headache-inducing. Not that Allison could get headaches, now, but she felt the phantom pounding behind her temples all the same. 

It felt... cold. Allison couldn't quite feel anything, really. Anger, fear, loneliness, triumph - it was all hollow. Like there was something missing. Like she was trying to experience someone else's life through a movie screen - she could see their emotions plainly, but here she was, not feeling them in return. 

Allison drifted there, for a moment. It was cold and dark, and there were voices she couldn't quite hear but sounded distinctly like Scott -  _and how she hated that sound -_ like  _Stiles,_ like Theo, and it was -

Decidedly strange. Allison knew one thing, however; Theo  _did not like_ Scott. At  _all._

Whatever he felt about anything else was murky, however. Allison couldn't tell you what he thought of himself, of his dead sister, of Stiles, of his parents. 

Perhaps it was the connection she'd had to Scott when alive that let her know when someone hated him so vehemently, because it was in complete opposition to how she herself felt. But then, she'd been friends with Stiles, so shouldn't she be able to tell what he feels about him?

No, Allison has the feeling that that's not the case. It's murky because it's murky even to Theo, and isn't that both  _interesting_ and something she feels should be left alone. 

Allison drifts, still. Allison stares around herself, strains her eyes. It's dark, and it's cold, but there _is_ something there. She is somewhere, someplace. Allison is not in some dark oblivion; she's in someone's head. And from what Allison knows, people's minds are a world of their own. Someone's subconscious is a place you can stand, can wake up - lying in a bathtub, dripping wet, staring across the empty white room towards a tree stump. 

Allison would know. She closes her eyes. 

Allison takes a deep breath. She is standing on something that feels like stone - no, like wood. No, no - definitely stone. Her feet are bare, and she's cold. Allison tugs at the hem of her skirt, her dress, and realises she's dressed like she had been when she died the first time. 

Allison takes a deep breath. She opens her eyes. 

The room she's in is underground, she knows. Tunnels, not a room - a room attached to underground tunnels. These are off-limits, but that never stopped Stiles, so they've been here a few times.

It never stopped Theo, either, for that matter. Let it be said that neither of them was the best influence on each other. 

Allison takes a moment to look around. She walks a ways down the tunnel, uses a hand on the pipes to guide herself in the almost-too dark space. 

Allison finds herself at an opening, an electric fence blocking her way. Or it would be blocking her way, if Allison weren't dead. Allison passes through it with ease; she is a ghost, she is dead, this isn't real - and moves on. The tunnels get lighter like someone's got some lamps set up somewhere, and it's... this green-ish sickly yellow-ish light that sets Allison on edge, makes the light hairs on her arms stand on end. 

She finds a room. There's nothing really in here, it's emptier than Allison thought it would be. Ususally, in someone's headspace, there's something. A big something, something so obvious and noticeable it's centre-stage in your awareness.

Allison doesn't find something like that. But she does find Theo in one of the rooms. He's on this bed - not a bed, really, a cot at most... something medical-looking; a gurney? Allison didn't study that sort of thing - and he's most certainly asleep. Allison wanders over to him. She has both the urge to leave and to tap him on the shoulder. 

Sue her; she's lonely, she's bored, she's dead. Nothing that bad could happen to her, except throwing her back into wherever she came from, and then Allison wouldn't be aware of anything anyway, so she'd be back to being dead-dead. Properly dead. And she'd be back to not feeling angry at any of her friends, and she'd be back to not hurting them by accident. 

Allison tapped him on the shoulder.  

Theo blinked to awareness, as Allison stepped back, stood there awkwardly, in her black dress and no shoes and unbrushed hair. 

She's dead. Feeling a bit self-conscious about her appearance is silly, but she's still only seventeen. Allison's allowed to be a teenager, and all that that entails. 

The younger than her eighteen-year-old, once awake enough to recognise her presence, sits up abruptly.

"Who are you?" He asked, suspiciously. Allison would be fine with this usually, except she's not in the best mood. Allison shrugged, frowned at him.

"Allison," she said. "Wanna go for a walk, Theo?"

* * *

 

"What am I here for?" He asked, amused. They'd walked through the dread doctor's main lab without seeing a single piece of equipment, so Theo'd deduced that they weren't actually awake right now.

That he wasn't awake. Theo isn't sure a ghost classes as an awake being... after all, a ghost is dead by definition. Dead people can't be awake - otherwise, they'd be alive. 

"Yeah," She confirmed. "What are you here for?" The dead girl repeated. 

"A pack," He said, truthfully.

"Alright," Allison nodded. "And Scott? You said to Stiles that you came here for Scott, right, but you  _hate_ him," Allison turned her head towards him and  _glowered,_ for a moment, before it was gone. Fleeting. Theo wondered what it was like to feel emotion, as a ghost; if you could, even. If everything was muted and nothing lasted very long, no matter if it was an extremely strong feeling or a mild one. 

"What makes you think I hate Scott?" Theo asked, amused again. "We were friends in fourth grade, you know? I heard he'd gotten True Alpha status and, being honest, thought that that would be a better kind of pack than one with a leader who'd murdered someone else for their power."

"Sounds nice, until you realise that I'm in your head," Allison said, breezily. "Theo... I know exactly how you feel about Scott, okay?" She frowned at him. "You can't lie to me."

"What?" Theo asked, feigning ignorance.  _Shit. Fuck._

" _Merde, putain,"_ Allison said, grinning. "Are we having a swearing contest, Raeken?"

Theo blinked at her. "What?" He asked, genuinely confused. 

"I can hear your thoughts," Allison said. "I can know what you feel about things. I can see your memories, sort of. I understand what you want as if it were I that wanted it. I'm anchored to  _you."_

Theo winced, and raised his hand to his side, as for a moment, he felt a strong burning sensation there - he frowned, then lifted his shirt. 

In the marks, he could see something clearly; a wolf, chains, the sun - something that looked like a flower. 

"The Argent family crest," Allison said. "Sort of."

"That's not a crest," Theo said. "No," Allison agreed. "That's why I said sort of."

Theo dropped his top, then looked back up at her. "Why me?" He asked.

"Who said I'm only attached to you?" Allison returned, smiling slightly. Not nicely - but still, slightly. 

"Stiles." Theo said. "Malia."

Allison nodded. "You can't tell anyone," She said, pointedly, "And that's an order. Because you  _literally_ can't tell  _anyone,_ not unless I want you to."

Theo nodded, slowly. "If you're here, in the real world," He said slowly, "... I'd leave."

"Why?" Allison asked. "You're just at home, right?"

"... in a way," Theo said. "What happens to me if something happens to you?"

"Nothing good," Allison said - Theo could see in her eyes that she didn't know she knew that. "And the same goes for Malia or Stiles. If something happens to any of you three or to me, nothing good happens to the other two or to all three of you."

Theo nodded and held back a mental smirk. 

Allison raised her eyebrows at him slightly. "Theo," She sighed, "When will you realise that you can't hide anything from me?"

"When you stop saying or asking things that require I do so," Theo said. 

Allison nodded, allowing. 

"If you're in my head..." Theo started, after a moment, "... does that mean I'm in yours?"

Allison paused. Theo didn't hold back his smirk, this time. 

* * *

Allison found herself in Scott's room when she woke up. 

It had been an abrupt awakening, that was for sure - and Allison knew the only reason she hadn't been pulled anywhere else was that Stiles spent practically half of his life here, at least since fourth-ish grade. 

Allison looked over to Scott's bed. He was asleep, that much she could see plainly. His phone was on the bedstand. Allison went over, curious, and picked it up. Tried to - failed; tried again until she did, on the fifth try. Allison didn't know his passcode, but she could see an unread message on the lock screen. 

_good night :) love you too! <3_

Oh. Allison glanced at the sender - Kira - and paused again. 

It's not - Allison isn't jealous. She'd been with Isaac when she died, after all. She'd moved on. 

It's just - she'd  _died._ And, okay, it's been months for the others. They're  _seniors now,_ for heaven's sake. 

But it - hasn't been that long for Allison.

(She sees red, again.)

Allison comes to awareness with her hand around Scott's throat and the other holds his hands up against the windowsill, straddling his abdomen. 

Her fingers feel branding-hot against his skin; against the skin of his hands, his fingers, and the skin of his neck. Allison stares down at him, at his closed-eyed yet wide-eyed expression, and feels sick. 

Allison teleports off of him, feels hereself slam against the wall. Scott  _chokes_ for breath, nearly, heaves when he gets it, rubs at his neck and winces, then - looks at his hands, and frowns. 

Shit.  _Shit. Fuck. **Fuck.**_

Allison gets the hell out of there. What if he could see her, with those red eyes of his? She hadn't thought about that.

Why was she even there in the first place? Allison... doesn't know. She'd been - at Theo's, last, right?

Maybe?

Allison doesn't remember. She frowns, leans against Stiles' dresser. 

Yeah. She'd been at Theo's. She'd - gone into his dreams like she had with Stiles... and...

Talked to him? That sounds about right. Yeah; she'd talked with him and -

_Oh._

Allison cursed herself; she'd been  _stupid._ Careless. A link goes both ways - and he'd used it. 

Why though? Allison blinked. He  _hated_ Scott. 

But - 

Oh. Allison went over to Stiles and Malia - and they looked drained. There were marks on their necks that hadn't been there before; marks that looked suspciously like fingerprints. 

Oh. 

Allison was well and truly royaly  _fucked._

* * *

 

 


	3. Yet - Sometimes - You Don't Really Have A Choice. (To Be The Kind Of Person You Never Wanted To Be.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison stared at her hands, at her shaking hands - the hands that had choked her ex and nearly killed her friends and wondered -
> 
> wondered why she'd been brought back if all she could do was hurt people.

It was dawn. Allison had stayed in the corner of Stiles' room since she'd returned there to see them pasty and bruised and drained.

Because of her. 

Allison stared at her hands, at her shaking hands - the hands that had choked her ex and nearly killed her friends and wondered -

Wondered why she'd been brought back if all she could do was hurt people she cared about. People she didn't even know. 

(Know anymore. Or know as well as she thought she had - does it matter? Allison's  _dead._ The people she's around now, they share the names of the people she'd known but they're older than her which shouldn't be possible and they've been through things she wasn't there for. Discovered things about themselves she could never know. Never learn in any meaningful sense.)

Malia woke up Stiles to kiss him good morning and to remind him to pick her up at her house today, then absconded out the window. After she'd been gone for three minutes - Stiles sat up; abrupt, sudden, stood and moved over to his wardrobe.

Allison was shaking too much to move, but she still remembered to close her eyes out of - Allison doesn't know. She's dead. Does it really matter if she sees him shirtless?

In a way. Regardless, Allison isn't a pervert. She keeps her eyes closed. 

When Allison hears Stiles return to the room, hears the soft click of the door, she opens her eyes again. He's had a shower and his hair is gelled like it usually is (she'd known him with a buzzcut and with this; it had been strange to see his hair after he'd just woken up for a number of reasons) and he's in a hoodie and jeans, and Allison closes her eyes again and  _focuses._

Allison can see what he sees, now. Feels the material of his hoodie against her arms, in a strange, vicarious way - but she ignores this sharpness of awareness in favour of what he's doing. 

Stiles makes a beeline for his clear marker board (what are those things called, anyway? That's the best Allison can come up with... oh well) and pulls the sheet off of it. 

He reasoned the sheet to people by asking rhetorically 'what am I supposed to do if someone sees half the shit on here? I shouldn't even have some of these images, they're police files, come on.' and they drop it because  _it's Stiles, he's paranoid,_ as if that's a good enough reason to drop it. 

It stings, sometimes, Allison knows. When people dismiss you. Stiles feels that keener than she'd have thought he would. 

(But less than she thinks he should. Now that she knows what she does - now that she's in all their heads like she is. A leech. A parasite. God, she's like the  _nogitsune,_ isn't she?

_Oh, the **irony.)**_

Allison gently directs him to take a gander at the whole board - since he was going to do that anyway, it's easy to guide him into taking a long enough look so that she has enough time to read it all.

 _Theo Raeken_ takes up quite the portion, with the  _Desert Wolf_ taking up the other half. 

It's not as full as his room had been when she was alive - Allison knows as much as Stiles does (because right now she knows what he knows) that that won't last.

It's neither depressing nor exciting anymore. It's just -

A case to solve.

Allison opens her eyes, stands on still shaking legs. 

"I'm sorry." She says to his back. Stiles twitches and glances around, but his eyes pass straight over her. He reaches up and rubs gently at the bruise on his neck that is already nearly gone, and Allison closes her eyes again.

_She's sorry. So, ****so **sorry.**_

* * *

Through picking Malia up at her house and driving to the school, there's this eerie silence Allison can't help but notice. Allison knows they sort-of know that she's here, and that... that scares her.

_What if they send her away?_

Allison doesn't want to not exist. She doesn't want to hurt her friends.

(Allison is scared that she can only have the latter if the former happens, and if the former doesn't happen, then that means the latter will.)

They arrive at the school and Allison has to use up some of her strength to push herself through the closed back left window because she doesn't want to get too close since Stiles had sensed her yesterday and she really couldn't have that happen again. 

The three make their way over to Scott and the others - or, rather, Stiles and Malia head over and Allison drifts after them, keeping behind objects that can block her from their view  _just in case._

The group splits up for homeroom, and Allison can't face Scott right now, nor Stiles or Malia, not after what she did, so she follows Theo. He shares his homeroom with Lydia and Kira, it seems - Stiles and Malia and Scott are all in the one homeroom, too. 

When she'd been alive, they'd all been in the same one. That had been easier for what they needed, but now, she couldn't be more glad that that had changed in the intervening years. 

Theo sits through homeroom quiet and bored - Allison could have sworn his eyes kept flicking in her direction, but that couldn't be right.

Still. Allison slid down the wall and sat, knees propping up her chin, and kept her eyes away from him.

Homeroom didn't last long, and so Allison followed Theo to his next class, through break and the class after that, and then it was time for lunch. 

"Hey, guys." Theo greeted the table. There were enough chairs for Allison to quietly slip into one without much issue, though she would have to keep an eye out for anyone who wanted to sit in it. 

Some cheerful greetings - Scott among them - some amicable ones, and Stiles's narrowed eyes were what he got in return. Allison snorted to herself and ignored the slight quirk to Theo's lips that happened after she'd done so. 

He can't see her, he can't hear her. Nobody can. She's inaudible, intangible, semi-incorporeal; she's  _dead._

He just finds Stiles' reaction amusing, is all.

"What've you guys got next?" Theo asked. "Econ," Stiles muttered, obviously annoyed (by Theo, Allison knows, not Econ, though someone not in his head could definitely think that that was the case) and not bothering to hide it.

"Me too." Theo smiled, as if oblivious, and if Allison can hear Stiles' teeth grind (which, ouch) then the others can definitely hear it too. 

Nobody says anything, though Scott looks at Stiles in that way he can look at someone and make them feel bad about how they're acting - but Stiles has known Scott for a long time, and even if that look works on him, Stiles knows to not pay enough attention to see it. 

* * *

Econ is as much of a Bobby Finnstock rant session as Allison remembers, and this time she can laugh without interrupting the class, so she does, because she did always kind of find the teacher-coach funny, in the way that he just didn't really act like any teacher she'd ever had before joining Beacon Hills High School. 

And then something unexpected happens - while Finnstock is reprimanding Greenburg, Allison gets hit in the leg by a balled up note. 

Allison has a mild freak-out about whether that note was meant for someone else and she'd simply been in the way, but then that doesn't make much sense, because, sure, she's sitting on top of a desk right now (the student is napping and she's pretty sure the chair they're leaning back on is about to slip but she can't really do anything, so...) but she's in the back corner of the room and it'd have gone to no-one if they'd meant someone else.

Allison glances around, and thinks she catches Theo's eye - but his eyes move as if he can't see her and he's just looking out the window, so Allison takes a breath she doesn't need to calm herself.

She's getting paranoid. Perhaps being in people's heads means that their traits rub off on her, or something, Allison doesn't know, but - 

Allison just has this feeling that Theo  _can_ see her, and honestly, it's freaking her out. 

Allison leans down and just about manages to grab the note. She glances around again, to check if anyone's looking, then drops off the desk silently and flattens the note on it. Allison reads it quickly -  _So you think he's funny, then?_ then pauses.

So he can hear her, too. This  _is_ Theo's writing, she knows it as well as she knows her own (because she's in his head) and she stomps over to him, the paper balled in her fist.

Allison stands in front of him, glaring. 

Theo can't exactly pay attention to Coach with her standing here, so it's only a matter of time before he sighs and his eyes focus on her's.

 _What do you want?_ He thinks, overly loudly, and her lips thin.

 ** _You can see me._** Allison states. 

Allison can practically feel his mental smirk - she can definitely see it in his eyes. 

_I'm as much in your head as you're in mine._

**_The same can be said for the rest of you then._** Allison points out.  ** _If anything happens to Scott or Stiles or Malia it happens to you._**

 _That's the point._ Theo thinks.  _Scott wouldn't be able to live knowing if something happened to him it'd hurt Stiles._

Allison didn't have the breath to catch in her throat, but she did  _pause_ at that. 

That was true. Allison needed to find a way to break her binding to Scott, immediately. 

Allison flees the room, as fast as she could - faster than she'd ever been able to as a human and faster than any physical being could ever be - and then she was there, in AP Biology with Scott and Lydia and Kira. 

Allison storms over to him and checks his neck. Lo and behold, there they were - bolder and stronger and more obvious than on Stiles or Malia or Theo and that was for a, well, obvious reason.

She'd loved him. She still does, in all honesty, as much as a ghost can feel anything strongly for a continuous amount of time. Allison traces them, gently, fingers millimeters above the marks, the  _brands,_ and he shivers and she snatches her hand away as if burned. 

Allison - she wouldn't -

Fucking  _brands._ She brands people. They're  _her's._ Her anchors, her  _playthings._

It's disgusting. She's disgusted, but only fleetingly. Allison can't feel enough for long enough to hate herself for this. 

Allison takes another deep breath, and places her fingers over the brands and  _pulls._ They come away, easy, and Allison snaps her head up because  _Lydia can see her._

Lydia's staring at her, pale as a ghost (Allison mentally smiles, amused) and Allison doesn't know what to do, or what to say. 

Lydia lifts her chin and nods. Allison widens her eyes, and Lydia glares at her.

...  _okay._

Allison walks over, purposefully and carefully and softly, but Lydia still flinches when Allison places her fingers on the girl's bare shoulder. 

 ** _I'm sorry._** Allison thinks.  ** _I'm so sorry._**

For everything. For dying, for doing this, for never saying goodbye. 

Allison doesn't even remember their last conversation. It had all gone to shit so  _quickly._

 _It's okay._ Allison hears. And she deflates at that, drops down to the ground and - and -

cries. Lydia's powerless to do anything, so she just sits there, eyes downcast, and places her fingers on the marks on her shoulder. 

Allison cries. The class empties from the room a few minutes later, but she's still sat there, curled up on the floor. 

"Lydia?" Kira asks. Lydia's staring at Allison, and Allison looks up at her.

 ** _Go._** She thinks.  ** _Don't tell anyone._**

Lydia nods. Allison can't control her, she can't control a banshee - but she's  _Lydia._ And Allison's  _Allison._

She thinks that's enough. 

* * *

Allison is anchored to these people. But the longer she's here the more anchors she thinks she's going to need. The more backup plans, the more people to keep her tied to this plane of existence. 

But that's only what Allison thinks. Still, Allison has more awareness about all this than she should, so Allison's going to trust that instinct. 

First of all... she needs to talk with Theo. Allison closes her eyes and focuses inward - it's not hard to do. Something about being dead and mostly apathetic makes it easier, Allison has found, to meditate. 

So Allison focuses inwards and finds her anchors. Each of them feels different; Malia's feels like dirt underfoot and the taste of blood between your teeth but also the feel of sunshine on your skin and the warm protection of pack and love, and there's a darkness there but a lightness too (it leaves Allison feeling lightheaded and heavy at the same time and it's... strange), and then you've got Lydia - it's cold, freezing cold - intellingent and sharp but warm, in a way, loyal and soft, easy to follow and willingly made. Like the taste of strawberries and the feel of expensive fabric against one's skin. 

You also have Stiles. And there's Theo, too. Lydia's is distinctly different from everyone's, but Stiles shares the sharp intelligence, but his is less focused, less like a strategic jab and more like a lot of jabs, like death by a thousand well thought out cuts  _just in case_ instead of  _one in the right place ought to do it without much mess or fanfare._ Stiles shares that same, strange darkness-lightness that Malia's has, but it's colder, somehow. Empty. Like he's trying, but somethings missing - and that something has been missing for a while, now. 

But there's something else, there. Something behind it. Something subdued and hidden and hated, she can tell,  _but there._

Theo's has that something. But it's stronger, more at the forefront. Allison can taste blood in her mouth, but there's more than with Malia - less like a dead rabbit and more like a dead  _person._

Allison shivers at the thought. Allison prods at the anchor anyway, and it responds, opens the floodgates.

Allison closes her eyes and leans against Stiles' wall, and slips into Theo's subconscious. 

* * *

There's more stuff here than last time. Allison knows that, but she can't see any of it. 

"This isn't the only place," Theo said.

Allison turned around. "This is an... odd tank," Allison says.

"It holds something dangerous. And something that could resurrect the dead." Theo says. "The question is whether or not keeping the dangerous being alive in there is worth the serum that can give."

"Resurrect the dead?" Allison asks.

Theo smirks at her. "Yes." He says. "So I have... an offer."

A deal. Allison turns to face him properly, frowns at him in suspicion. 

"You look a lot like Stiles, you know?" Theo asks her. "It's kind of uncanny."

"Oh, thanks for that," Allison mutters. 

"It's a compliment," Theo says. "I've got something to show you."

"What?" Allison asks. "Follow me," Theo says, turns, and walks towards the tunnels that Allison had entered via the first time. 

Allison follows, but not without one last look at the tank.

_Something dangerous. A serum that can resurrect the dead._

Allison will remember that. 

* * *

 

"Where are we?" Allison asks. 

"It's funny," Theo says, "But while I've been searching my own head since you revealed the existence of this place to me, I've found things that aren't mine. Memories."

Allison stiffens. She - this was -

"You were pretty ruthless with them," Theo says, amiably, as Allison watches herself attack Erica and Boyd without mercy. 

"I wasn't -" Allison starts. "My mom had died. And Gerard had gotten inside my head. I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't myself."

"The lies we tell ourselves," Theo sighs. Allison  _glares_ at him, steps towards him. She doesn't know what to say to that, though. 

(Theo's wrong. They're reasons, not lies, not excuses. But regardless of that - you can't deny that Allison doesn't deal with grief  _well.)_

 

Theo smirks at her, raises his eyebrow. Allison glares some more and turns back - but the scene has changed.

_"You can leave if you want."_

_"I'm not going to."_

_"But what if I hurt you?"_

_"You're not going to hurt me."_

Allison takes in a sharp breath.

_"Run!"_

_"I'm not going to run."_

This isn't her memory. It's isn't his.

"Stop this," Allison says. "Right now. This isn't -"

_"I think you're so scared of hurting me, because of what you did to your family?"_

"We have access," Theo says. "So why not?"

"This is  _private."_ Allison hisses, gestures as she glares at him again. 

 _"I know what that's like, Malia,"_ Stiles says. 

Allison's non-existent blood runs cold.

 _"I remember what I did."_ He says.  _"And the worst part is I remember **liking it."**_

" **Stop it,"** Allison demands. Theo shakes his head. "Just watch," He murmurs. "This is the good part."

Stiles steps forward, moves closer towards a dangerous, full-moon mad Malia with every word. 

 _"Because I felt **powerful.** " _He continues.  _" **Fearless.** And most of all...  **in control.** but when I came through it, _ _ **I learned something else.** "_

Stiles steps forward one more time - he's out of the low hanging light's area of effect, now, half his face is cast in shadow and it's - 

Ominous. Allison had never - Stiles couldn't be  _ominous,_ he's  _Stiles,_ but - 

" _Control?_ _Is_ ** _overrated._ "**

They shouldn't be here.

 

Stiles unlocks Malia's cuffs and she  _goes_ for him - but he grabs her arms and stares her down and she - literally the first word that comes to Allison's mind is that she  _submits,_ she lowers her head and the shift recedes and they stare at each other, and with a quiet " _you did it"_ Malia's hugging him and he's hugging her and the light is swinging and they're both  _alive,_ and way, way more  _fucked up_ than Allison or any of them had realised. 

The memory fades out and they're in this room, off the side of the tunnel. Allison was sure this place wasn't here last time. 

"As you can see," Theo says. "I've renovated."

"What?" She asked, bewildered. "But -"

"This  _is_ my head." Theo points out. "So, ergo..."

He can do with it what he likes. Okay, that makes... some form of sense. 

"Alright," Allison lets out, then - "What was  _that_ all about?" She demands, forceful, steps forward to jab a finger in his chest. "That was  _private."_

"And it wasn't yours," Theo sais. "So why do you care?"

"He's my  _friend."_ Allison snaps. "And even if Malia might as well be a stranger, that doesn't mean I don't care if I invade her privacy! In fact, that makes it  _worse."_

Theo goes 'hmm', in that considering but not agreeing or accepting manner that Allison always hated because of how  _condescending_ it sounded. "Still," Theo said. "It made my point."

"Which was?" Allison demands, again. 

"That I've known him for much longer than you have," Theo says. "And that if his life and my life and Malia's life are tied to yours, then you know what that means."

"What does that mean?" Allison asks. "In your opinion."

"That you'll have to accept certain things," Theo says. "That you'll have to accept knowing us better than we know ourselves, and vice versa." 

"How did you figure all this out?"

"Because I bother to read things every now and again," Theo says, bored sounding. "You should try it, sometime."

Allison glares at him. Theo smirks. "You could just look through my eyes while I'm reading."

Allison... doesn't like the look on his face. "Or at any other time," he says. "It must get... lonely."

Allison narrows her eyes at him. "What are you saying?" She asks, suspicious. 

Theo's smirk widens. "I think you know."

Allison glares at him. "Ass." She mutters. "Why did you show me that, really?" Allison demands. 

"Because as much as you've known Stiles for less than a year," Theo says, "I knew him for a good while. Through to his mother's death, and a little of the aftermath. Then, sure, I was gone, but that doesn't mean I didn't keep an eye on everyone. And I came back later than I'd hoped, sure, but I did. And the Stiles I knew then, the Stiles you know, they're fairly different but essentially the same as the Stiles we know now."

"And Malia?" Allison asks. "She's interesting," Theo says. "A kindred spirit, you could say."

"Alright," Allison says. "So why...?"

"Let's just go with the fact that we have a... mutual interest in keeping them alive," Theo says. "Along with the banshee, fox, and beta."

"You mean Lydia," Allison snaps. "Kira."

"Don't know the kid's name, do you?" Theo asks, amused. "It's Liam."

Allison glowers at him. "...Thanks." She mutters. Allison sighs, drops onto a couch she hadn't realized was there. 

Theo sits next to her - and it's a loveseat, she notes, and Allison doesn't like how close that means they have to sit. 

Allison turns to face him and leaves her legs leaning to the side. She hates that she's still in that stupid dress and she hates that she's still as drenched as she had been the day of the ice-bath, that she's still just as cold when he's just sitting there all warm in his jacket and jeans and dryness. 

"I just want to help," Theo says, earnestly, and Allison laughs. "I'm in your head, Raeken," Allison says. "Don't even try and lie to me."

"Fine," Theo says. "I want Scott dead. I want a pack. I want Stiles and Malia and Kira and Lydia and Liam and  _you_ in it." Theo admits. "For the latter, I need you alive. For the former... I have a way to bring you back. Don't try and stop me, and we have a deal."

"You think I'd just let you kill Scott?" Allison demands, feels her dead muscles tense and a sneer take over her face. "You're crazy."

"You wouldn't just let me kill Scott, no," Theo agrees. "So I offer you something else." 

"What?" Allison snaps. "Find a way to drain his spark," Theo says. "And I don't care who you give it to. I can't take it." 

Allison frowns at him. Theo smirks. "Chimera," Allison plucks from his thoughts - they're still murky, but they're getting clearer. Soon, she should be able to see memories, feelings. His innermost instincts and greatest desires. 

"Yeah," Theo nods. "Half coyote, half wolf. All human." Theo smirks, easily. 

Allison sighs - she can't help it. This is just... 

She's dead. She's sitting across from the guy that wants her ex-boyfriend  **dead** and she feels  _nothing._

 

"... you don't care, do you?" Theo asks. 

Allison can't say anything in response to that, so she doesn't say anything at all. 

"But you want to," Theo says, knowingly. "And you can."

Allison wants so desperately to  _care_ about  _something._

"Go on," Theo says. "Look through my eyes."

Allison debates this, for a moment. It's monumentally stupid. She should go - look through Malia's head or Stiles' head or go sit with Lydia and talk about what happened today or  _something,_ she shouldn't just - accept this, she shouldn't just _not care_ enough to sit here with this  _evil,_ despicable person but  _here she is. Not caring enough._

Allison nods, once, slowly, and closes her eyes.

* * *

 

It's surprisingly easy to pretend that she is Theo, or that Theo is her. 

Theo leaves this dark basement and goes through the tunnels that Allison recognizes - she gleans Dread Doctors, base, experiments and beast from the thoughts he sends her way - as the ones from his head.

 _This is where I live._ Theo tells her.  _Part-time, of course._

Theo runs to this house that smells nothing like him, goes inside and grabs his things, gets changed out of the clothes he'd used for bed last night (sweatpants, a worn t-shirt) and dresses in a new t-shirt, grabs a vest and some jeans and some new underwear and dresses and it's... strange, sure, but Allison doesn't focus on this and it passes quickly enough.

Theo cleans his teeth and eats breakfast and it's so startlingly  _normal._ He's evil and the two adults here are terrified of him, one's got a cast on his hand and Allison knows it's because Theo smashed his hand with a hammer because of the discrepancy Stiles found and God, Allison would normally feel something about that but Theo's indifference overpowers it.

It's strange, this lack of empathy. Allison's never felt like that before; even as a ghost, she still... kind-of cared. 

It's horrifyingly refreshing... if that makes any kind of sense. 

* * *

 

Theo drives to school in his jeep, parks deliberately next to Stiles' even though Stiles isn't anywhere to be seen and gets out, locks the car. 

 _How are you finding this?_ Theo asks, and Allison knows it's out of a strange curiosity about ghosts more than anything else.

 _... **odd.**_ Allison thinks back. 

Theo mentally chuckles, then scours the groups of waiting students for the pack, finds them, and walks over. Stiles is already annoyed, Allison can tell, but she doesn't feel as amused about that as she'd thought Theo would.

More - fond. It's... strange.

 _Allison._ Theo thinks, momentarily annoyed, and Allison blinks. Oh, right. He heard that. 

"You're late," Lydia says. She's narrowing her eyes at them, and Allison pleads with her mentally to just  _go along with it,_ and Lydia appears to think  _okay_ to that, if she hears it at all, because she relaxes minutely. 

"Traffic," Theo says. "Surprisingly."

"We never get traffic," Stiles says, immediate. Scott sighs, and that's just a little  _too_ obvious. 

Theo raises an eyebrow at Scott and shrugs at Stiles, and if Allison couldn't hear the murderous thoughts running through his head right now she'd be fooled too. 

"It's strange, I know," Theo says.

"I got traffic," Kira says. "Down main street, right?" 

"Yeah," Theo nods. Stiles relaxes a little, since he trusts Kira enough to believe her about the traffic when he wouldn't trust Theo, and Theo relaxes because out of all of them, he believes that Stiles would be the one to figure him out first if he left enough clues. 

He doesn't need nor want that at this stage. Nothing's even happened yet. 

"Shall we?" Lydia says, and Malia nods, and they all go to their respective homerooms. Theo walks with Stiles and Malia and Allison could sense the awkward silence from a mile away when human it was that obvious. 

"We should talk," Theo says, quietly. "About the marks."

"Fine." Stiles snaps. 

"My house should be quiet," Malia says. "Dad's gone hunting for a couple days, like he usually does around this time of year."

Theo nods. "Meet me there at five?" He asks. 

"Alright," Stiles nods, obviously dubious but not seeing any other option. "See you then," Malia says, and Theo goes to his seat in the back of the classroom.

At five, then. Allison loosens her focus and lets time pass her by.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boop! New chapter. Thoughts?


	4. However, Even If That Choice Is Taken, You'd Still Fight Tooth And Nail. (Or, At Least, You Think You Would.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stan Pines voice*: Here we go...

It's five O'clock, and Allison is still waiting around inside Theo's head, pacing metaphorically.

"Stop that," Theo mutters to himself, and Allison calms enough to notice that his leg is bouncing.

**_Huh..._  **She thinks, and since they're sharing a brain, that gets sent his way.

Theo rolls his eyes and Allison grimaces (again, metaphorically) then closes her eyes and  _concentrates._

Allison manifests across from him, halfway through the wall.

Theo laughs mentally, throws a smirk in her direction. Allison scowls and pushes herself out of the wall. "What's taking them so long?" Allison grumbles, fleetingly irritated. "Deciding whether or not to go through with this," Theo says. "Stiles is...  _stiles,_ and Malia's falsely unconcerned."

"Right," Allison says, then slides down the wall she was leaning against, brings her legs up to her chin so she can rest on her knees. "Alright." 

Theo nods, once, slowly, and turns his attention back to the couple down in Malia's living room.

"They're coming," Theo says, and Allison nods - numb, the irritation and fear and restlessness of before long gone. 

"So who is it?" Stiles demands upon his entrance, doesn't bother with any preamble or formality. Malia sighs and drops into the chair at her desk; this is Malia's old room. From what Allison can tell, it hasn't been redecorated since the girl last lived here... when she was nine.

Holding onto the past. Like Stiles, like Allison, Malia has ghosts - her family has ghosts. 

Allison was about to say 'unlike Stiles and herself', except that's not true.  _Like_ Allison, Malia's one of those ghosts. It's - not a nice feeling. 

Stiles is just sort of standing there, mildly angry (or perhaps more than mildly, Allison corrects after flicking through his head), half looming over Theo and half distracted by - Allison thinks he's trying to catch a glimpse of  _something;_ something that proves the presence of something that shouldn't be here.

Like a ghost. Like her. 

**_Where are you?_** Allison thinks, directs it at Lydia and focuses hard on Theo or the other two not hearing her. 

**_Outside._** Lydia thinks back.

Allison concentrates on Lydia and leaves the three in the bedroom - Theo's eyes widen momentarily at her disappearance, but he returns to his mildly cocky demeanor in no time. 

"Well?" Stiles demands, having relaxed slightly. Theo thinks that's likely because, even if Stiles wasn't consciously aware of it, he'd known Allison was there and was glad she was gone... even if Stiles wouldn't admit that to himself. Or anyone else. 

"You know," Theo says, knowingly. "Allison Argent."

"... No." Stiles says, flatly, but Theo can tell he's not even trying to lie to himself about this. "It has to be someone else," Stiles says, and his tone is - flat. It would be almost worrying if Theo couldn't use this to his advantage. 

(It is almost worrying. It's only just barely not worrying because Theo can use this to his advantage.)

( _Only just barely.)_

* * *

Allison appears in front of Lydia, and the shorter girl jumps in surprise. It feels strange, knowing that Lydia can see her and could see her and that had nothing to do with Allison using her as a tether and everything to do with the younger being a banshee. 

It's strange, after so long, for someone to be able to see her properly, as if she were  _there,_ for real, corporeal and solid and  _permanent._

Alive.

"... Allison," Lydia says, and it hurts that she's wary but Allison knows why. Knows it intimately; she's in the other girl's head. How could she  _not_ know?

Allison swallows past a lump in her throat, and nods once, says "Yeah," Thickly. Allison clears her throat and repeats herself. "Yeah," She says, firmly and strongly. "Lydia," Allison greets in return, and Lydia reaches out a hand as if to test Allison's corporeal nature but appears to change her mind and drops it at the last second.

Allison pretends she doesn't flinch at that, and Lydia pretends the same. 

"Shall we?" Allison asks, after taking a deep breath. Allison had wanted to talk to Lydia alone, earlier, but - 

It's... it's scary. Daunting. She has no  _fucking clue_ what she'd say.

(An apology. She'd likely crumble into an inconsolable mess. She's  _seventeen._ _Forever._ Because she's  _dead._  

And Lydia wouldn't be able to do anything. She might be able to see Allison as if she were real, but she isn't. Her hands would go straight through.)

(Only Allison can initiate contact.)

Lydia nods, and Allison ignores her shakiness, the way the other girl steps past her with a wide berth. Allison gives the redhead her space, and follows behind a fair distance away until they're outside the room Allison had left earlier.

"Ready?" Allison asks, quietly. 

Lydia lifts her chin and marches in the room. Allison smiles, momentarily, fleetingly fond. 

Allison practically glides in after Lydia, and drops onto the bed next to Theo. The bed doesn't react, of course, because she's intangible, for the most part - she certainly doesn't weigh anything. 

"Lydia?" Malia asks, in that way of her's; dubiousness and confusion and an almost flat, blunt tone all at once. 

"I can confirm that it's Allison," Lydia says, staring right at her. Allison closes her eyes and looks away, and when she reopens them she's looking through Theo's eyes again. 

Lydia purses her lips and turns to Theo, and Allison closes her eyes again, doesn't want to look.

Stiles follows Lydia's gaze and pales slightly (somehow) and Allison feels like a fucking idiot, because  _of course._

"Where is she?" He asks, warily, but his eyes are still trained on Theo like  _he knows._

"In here right now," Theo taps the side of his head, and Allison winces, because he didn't need to do it that hard. 

"Of course," Stiles says, somehow dryly and laughingly at the same time, and Allison curls in on herself as best she can, tries to make herself less obvious, less threatening. 

Lydia briefly closes her eyes as if - saddened, maybe, disappointed - and turns to Stiles. "It's not like how you think," Lydia says. 

"I know," Stiles says, stops chewing on his bottom lip. Grinds his teeth. "If it were..." Stiles huffs out a laugh - it's not really a laugh. He isn't amused. Regardless, Stiles doesn't continue - makes an annoyed, angry gesture at himself (Allison winces) and starts pacing. 

"She doesn't blame you," Lydia says, slowly, and that's -

True, Allison thinks, haltingly. She doesn't blame him; she blames someone that looks exactly like him. That used his mannerisms in a way he never would and probably smirked while she was dying (Allison wouldn't know). 

Allison doesn't blame Stiles. She just wishes the nogitsune was still around because Allison can feel something about him, and _it isn't fleeting._

Malia stands and places a hand on Stiles' arm. "So what are we gonna do?" She demands, turns her attention to Theo as if she's trying to search his eyes for Allison's presence. 

"Nothing," Lydia says, and she's - her head's tilted defiantly and she's standing strong and she  _doesn't want to be rid of her._

Allison could never be more grateful. 

"Oh really?" Stiles asks. "So it's just - a benevolent possession and haunting and these aren't ominous at all?" He asks, sarcastically, gestures to the brands on Lydia's shoulder. 

Allison flinches, a full body thing, and it's forceful enough for Theo to twitch, muscles spasming. 

Stiles zeroes in on that, as he would, and his eyes narrow suspiciously. 

Allison breaks from Theo's head and plasters herself to the wall. 

"-Allison," Lydia says, abruptly. She steps forward, an aborted movement, and just stands there, stares at her sympathetically. 

Allison doesn't need  _pity._

Allison notices the tinge to her vision before she can do anything, and simply plasters herself to the wall even more forcefully, slides down quick and harsh, slams onto the floor without any sound or any pain or  _anything._

Lydia looks a little pale but determined. "She's safe," Lydia says, and Allison would laugh at that if she had the energy.

No, she's not. They  _should_ want to be rid of her. 

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, intense, and for once Allison wishes he trusted his own judgment more than Lydia's about this sort of thing. 

But he's not the one that can see ghosts. So he believes Lydia over himself about that; since it's not his purview. 

"Yes." Lydia says, firmly. 

"Well," Stiles says, staring at her, eyes hard. "I hope you're right."

"Allison?" He asks the air, eyes darting about to see if he can catch something that might prove her presence. 

Allison stands, shakily. 

"Maybe it might be best to move the brands from places less obvious?" Stiles asks, haltingly, and that's - good, that's something she should do, so Allison nods and moves forward. She does Lydia first, because Stiles is way too tense and Theo's are in an awkward place to get at (she'd have to push through his layers of clothing) as is Malia's. Allison drags them along Lydia's shoulder and down her shoulderblade, her back, and leaves them at her hip. 

"At least it's not a tramp stamp," Lydia says, casually, then nods. "She's moved them." She says, and Malia frowns at Lydia. "We can see that," Malia says, bluntly, and she's more disturbed than she's letting on. 

Allison moves over to Malia, who Lydia gestures to. "Your turn," She says, and the brunette sighs, removes her shirt (which Allison is fairly sure used to be Stiles') and drops it on the back of her desk chair.

When Allison touches the marks, she feels a sharp tug as Malia hisses and brings her hand up to her arm. Allison snatches her hand away and suddenly Stiles is standing where she is and suddenly -

_what did she do is Malia okay how is this happening ghosts are you shittimg me **Allison** fuck fuck -_

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks, and he's calmer on the outside than he actually is. Allison is pretty sure a heart isn't supposed to beat this fast. 

"I'm fine," Malia says, blunt as always, and removes her hand from her arm. 

"Stiles," Lydia says, cautiously, and Allison isn't expecting to react like it was her name called but -

Oh. _Merde._

"What?" Stiles asks, and Allison registers the feel of his hoodie against her skin and Malia's arm against her fingers that she hadn't noticed before.

_Fuck fuck -_

"Just.. step left," Lydia asks, careful. "Please."

Stiles raises an eyebrow at her but does so, and Allison's face scrunches up in surprising pain as they separate. 

Allison sends a thankful look Lydia's way, who nods. "Try again," Lydia says, and Allison prepares herself before turning back to Malia, who is staring through her shoulder warily. 

"Up a little, and to the left," Lydia instructs, and Malia's gaze is now looking through Allison's forehead, which she isn't sure is much better. 

Allison swallows, then reaches forward painfully slowly, touches the marks but nothing happens this time.

Malia frowns and goes to roll her shoulders, but a quick, sharp reprimand from both Lydia and Allison herself stops her. 

"Feels strange," Malia offers, as her reason. Allison ignores this and moves the brands up her arm, then hesitates.

"Why not the same place?" Lydia asks, and Allison shrugs, so she pulls the marks around Malia's back and down to her hip - but hesitates before letting go, and moves them across to the other one. 

After Allison lets go, Malia pulls the left side waist of her shorts away from her skin and checks the marks. 

"Stronger than before," she says. "And that weird pattern is in them now."

Allison does have to admit that she actually feels different from before - not better, exactly... stronger, perhaps. 

"My turn," Theo says, and takes his shirt off.

Stiles sighs, Malia rolls her eyes, and Lydia nods, professional. "Alright," Allison says - Theo can see and hear her too, after all. "Where?"

"You'll have to put it on my leg," Theo says. "It's not like I ever wear shorts and I use the gym, anywhere on my torso would be too obvious."

"Right," Allison says, and moves over to him. She places her fingers on the marks - a quiet, suppressed his later and they're slightly bigger, more defined. Allison can definitely see the pattern in them now; almost as if someone took her necklace and heated it, then branded that onto his skin, then inked over it, then proceeded to punch that place repeatedly. 

Allison swallowed and turned her attention away - she quickly dragged the marks down to the back of his knee and let go. 

Theo nodded, smirking (Allison refuses to think about why) and put his t-shirt back on, but didn't bother with his hoodie. 

"Stiles' turn," Theo says. "You'll have to be really discrete with that one."

"Why?" Allison asks, and Theo rolls his eyes. "Lacrosse?" He says, and Stiles narrows his eyes at Theo.

"How come you can see her but we can't?"

"We had a chat," Theo says. "Subconscious."

Stiles nods, once, sharp and short. Allison sighs and moves towards him. "Where?" She asks, and Lydia frowns. 

"Where is it now?" Lydia asks. "Shoulderblade," Allison responds, at the same time as Stiles. 

"Well, I mean, so long as you keep your back to the lockers..." Lydia says, slowly. 

"He uses the lockers as  _cover,_ " Theo says, disparagingly, "He always has. Maybe somewhere on the front?"

"Oi." Stiles snaps. Allison ignores him and nods, presses her fingers into his shoulderblade and he  _freezes._ Malia grabs his hand and squeezes, and he seems to relax minutely at that. Allison carefully - ever so carefully - drags the marks around and drops them halfway down his torso on the right side. "There." She says, "Done." 

Stiles relaxes, but his eyes track where she is, and Allison winces because she knows what happened to him; the possession, hallucinations.

Maybe it'd make it easier to see her. Theo can only see her as she was the night of the ice bath, and she doesn't know what Lydia sees - but Stiles might see her as she truly is, and that...

Allison places a hand on her gut and grimaces, discretely wipes the black ooze away on the side of her skirt.

_That would be bad._

"Okay," Lydia says, warily, frowning at Allison. So she can't see the wound, then, otherwise that action would have made sense. "I guess that's it." Lydia turns as if to leave, but Stiles reaches out and stops her. "Wait, hold on," He says, "We're not even gonna try and talk to her?"

"We don't need to try," Lydia says, and it's her turn to be disparaging. "I can, remember? And so can Theo. You don't need me for that."

Allison winces, but after another look, she can see that same, strange tenseness in Lydia's frame as she'd had the first time Lydia had seen Allison since all this started.

Like she was holding herself back from something. Like something her instincts were driving her to do was something that she wanted to avoid.

"Let her go," Allison says,  _demands,_ and Stiles retracts his hand as if  _burned,_ whips his head around to stare at her -

and promptly looks like he's about to vomit.

"Get him - out  _now,"_ Allison says, and it's Theo who reacts because Lydia left immediately after Stiles had let go.

"Toilet," Theo says, and Malia drags Stiles in the direction of one.

Allison can hear vomiting, and she winces.

"What's that all about?" Theo asks, and as he turns to Allison she -

Concentrates.

"Oh," Theo lets out. "... Ouch." He says, and Allison glares at him, stops focusing on letting him see and allows his old illusions to return. 

"That would - mhmm." Theo grimaces. 

Allison throws a dark smirk in his direction before sighing and dropping onto Malia's old bed. "Squeamish, Raeken?" She asks.

Theo scoffs, and that's about what she expected.

Allison hasn't forgotten he's evil, and psychotic, and awful - but she can't really say or do anyting about it. 

Well. That's not true, but she doesn't have anyone she could transfer the marks he's got onto, and he'd stop her before she got the chance.

_(He's as much in her head as she's in his.)_

"So, we should tell them that we're linked, right?" Theo says.

"Of course," Allison says. 

Once the other two return, Stiles looking decidedly less green, they sit down and Allison returns to occupying the same space as Theo. 

"We're linked," Theo says. "The marks; what happens to one of us happens to all of us. As far as I'm aware, if something bad happens to Allison, something bad happens to us, too."

"Oh that's -" Stiles shakes his head. "Just...  _perfect._ Great. Sure," He sighs. 

Malia frowns, stands, and moves over to Theo, then slaps him. 

"Ow," Theo says, mildly, and Stiles' head snaps to the side. 

" _Ow,"_ Stiles says, more forcefully. "Well, that's fucking _bullshit,_ " Stiles grumbles. 

"Sorry," Malia says, wincing, rubbing her left cheek. 

"At least we proved that that's true," Theo offers, shrugging. 

"... if it's more than just pain things are gonna get annoying really fast," Stiles says, dryly. 

"Like what?" Theo asks, smirking. 

Allison sighs, mentally. 

"Sex," Malia says, bluntly. 

"Not what I had in mind," Stiles points out, "But also a factor, yeah."

"Hmm." Theo muses. "I guess we'll find out, then?"

"I guess." Stiles glares at Theo, and Allison sighs because all Theo does at that is smirk. Again. 

His only reaction to all that is  _fondness,_ it's... fucking weird. 

_Allison,_ Theo thinks.

Allison shrugs.  ** _Sorry,_** she returns, not sorry at all.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop! And done :) Next chapter soon maybe.


End file.
